Category: 08 Months Old

The Mouthwash Ritual

On March 15, 2021

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

The mouthwash ritual is a sacred ceremony that Mommy and I perform every night since I turned 8-months-old when I procured my fourth tooth.

After flossing (my second favorite activity), I would sit on the bathroom counter with my feet in the sink, holding my big dinosaur cup over the faucet while Mommy turns on the water. It’s always a bonus whenever I can quickly move the cup away just so the water splashes on my feet. Delightful. Of course, Mommy immediately turns off the water and teases about my wet pants.

It’s a little game we play.

Mommy then opens a green bottle, letting the refreshing smell of mint swirl into my nostril. Ah, The Precious Mouthwash. Together, we would pour a very teeny, tiny amount of Mouthwash into her small cup.

Then we look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, as if speaking in a silent language and say in harmony, “Cheers!” raising our cups for good luck.

“Spit it out, don’t drink it,” Mommy warns me every time.

As usual, I nod. But proceed to drink the water as fast as I could before she tears the cup away from me.

“Plat,” I would fake a spit and give her a big grin.

Mommy, on the other hand, takes a swig from her cup. For a few moments, the Mouthwash stays in her mouth, not going down nor coming out.

My hands vibrate as I place them on her cheeks, feeling every swish.

As if stuck in a wormhole, it bounces around, forming larger and larger bubbles until it overflows. “Haha!” I laughed as I popped the bubbles in her mouth. My favorite part!

Finally, Mommy decides to spit out the green, foamy liquid. I watch it sizzle down the drain—what a waste.

Mouthwash, like toothpaste, is meant to be swallowed.

The Teeth Acquiring Ceremony

By Izzy Tornado

On January 2, 2021

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

At 8-months-old, I can finally mark my territory with my army of four teeth. Lesson learned: bite everything except for self. I bit my fingers, forgetting I just got the big front tooth, and those chompers hurt! Imagine what I can do when I have ALL my teeth?! Or the better question is, what can I NOT do?

I need to find more teeth. Pronto.

It is not like they are buried in the ground, and I just have to dig for them. The only way to get them is through the teeth acquiring ceremony. It is usually a pretty rough process. Every few weeks, they will appear out of nowhere after sacrificing my well-being, including loss of appetite and lack of sleep. A warm headache frequently occurs as well – the parents called it a “fever.” They’ll stick a machine in my ears every few hours, exclaiming a number. I’m assuming the higher the number, the more likely the tooth is arriving.

No pain, no gain – after 2-3 days of sacrifice, my gums will itch, and I’ll become a drooling zombie.

Usually, popping a chew toy in my mouth to gnaw at the sore spot will speed up the progress. Sometimes, I cry out in frustration; patience is not a virtue that comes pre-packaged for a baby. After what feels like an eternity, I can feel the head of the teeth peeping out of the gums’ its edges scraping on my delicate tongue. Finally, I’ll get my reward!

I can’t wait to expand my territory with my unlimited saliva supply and strong, sharp teeth.

So far, I have acquired a doll, broccoli stalks, and Mommy’s arms.

Daycare Inception

By Izzy Tornado

On August 30, 2020

In 08 Months Old, Izzy's Stories, Under 1 Year Old

I have suspected for a while now that I am stuck in a perpetual loop at daycare. It will miraculously return to its initial state every morning no matter what happens – spilled milk, crumb trails, lost toys, etc.

Today, I can finally prove my theory.

It is morning, and mommy just dropped me off. The neatly stacked bins packed the bookcases with various toys – puzzles here, farm animals there. The dollhouse is now fully stocked with plastic furniture and barbies staring blankly back at me. I was pretty sure I took them all out yesterday. The pots and pans are back in the kitchenette cupboards. Running towards them for a closer look, I can hear mommy talking to the caretaker. “Oh, she really likes the kitchenette, doesn’t she.” Mommy is clueless about the true powers of this daycare. Wait… is that… no, it can’t be! I purposely hid the pink teacup in one of the toy cars yesterday, but now it is sitting on the shelf, waiting to be filled again.

Over the past few weeks, I ran multiple experiments, but it was always unsuccessful.

The first time, I purposely covered a barbie with my crumbs and saliva to mark my territory.

Still, she reappeared spotless the next day; I presumed she might have a twin. So then, I hid the smallest dinosaur I could find under a pile of toys, like a dumpster at a construction zone. Not only did it escaped unscathed, but it was also chilling with friends the next day in the dinosaur bin. After unsuccessfully misplacing multiple objects, this teacup had been my 5th (or 10th? I’m not sure, don’t know how to count yet) and final experiment. The conclusion?

Daycare is a magical place, where the future is the present, and the present is a repeat of the past.

No matter how much I try to change the daycare for the better (or worse), the daycare will always return to its initial state after I wake up.

THIS. IS. AWESOME. My first thought is – how much mess can I make today? One kid is putting all the toy trains in a straight line, the other has blocks stacked above his head, and the last is drumming away like there’s no tomorrow. As an 8-month-old highly experienced in crawling, I have more mobility now than ever before. Putting on my imaginary “Taz” hat, I zigzagged across to the other side of the room with as much speed as I could muster. At the end of my journey, I turned around admiring my creation. Success! The trains are in a crooked formation with some wheels facing upward, the blocks are loosely scattered across the playmat as it should be and in my left hand is one of the drumsticks. Ba dum tss. A big grin formed on my face as the kids looked at me, still in shock. The caretaker walked towards me and asked gently, “did a tornado come through?”.

The other kids slowly surrounded me chanting, “Izzy Tornado, Izzy Tornado.”

I graciously accepted my new title; I have earned it since I helped them out.

The next day, my eyes glittered with excitement as we approached the daycare. The front doors flew open, and one of the girls ran up singing “Morning Izzy Tornado.” I look around – sure enough, the daycare is back to normal again. I need to learn this spell so I can use it at home.